


Only in Oddford

by Tricksterbelle



Series: Tales of a Border Town [1]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Family Drama, High School, Jareth is very sorry, Multi, Multiple Crossovers, Platonic Relationships, The Williams family sticks together, ptsd mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26101231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterbelle/pseuds/Tricksterbelle
Summary: Sarah is a neurotic teenager who needs a fresh start and a place to fit in.Jareth has to atone for past mistakes and take care of his teenage cousin.They both choose a small town on the border of Faerie and the Mid-Atlantic to do so. A place filled with misfits and travelers, strangeness and miracles. But surely Fae royalty clashing with a local kid is the most excitement the place will ever get. Right?Vignette style. Massive character crossover but primarily a Labyrinth story. Tags will be added as needed.
Relationships: Irene | Karen Williams & Sarah Williams, Jareth & Sarah Williams, Sarah Williams & Robert Williams, Sarah Williams & Toby Williams
Series: Tales of a Border Town [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895089
Kudos: 4





	1. The Town Less Traveled To

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fairy tale, and a fantasy. 
> 
> In fairy tales, there are many things that are not real. Faerie lands, peaceful towns on the Borders of reality, good kings, brave knights, easy answers. But fairy tales teach us how to fight monsters that may be real, though not what they seem on the outside.
> 
> There are many fantasies we tell to comfort and inspire us. There are power fantasies, romantic fantasies, wish fulfillment fantasies. This is a forgiveness fantasy. That you can forgive someone who wronged you completely and heal. That the one who hurt you could change into a person worthy of your forgiveness, worthy of your trust. This may not ever happen in our world, and I’m doubtful it even should. But this is Oddford, a place for misfits and miracles. Maybe it can heal, in some measure.

Robert Williams rested his head back on the wood paneling of the wall behind him. It had been another long, grueling day at work, and while he would love nothing more than to get home to Karen and the kids, his friend Dan was in town and eager to catch up. The man himself weaved back from the bar to their booth, two syrupy stouts in hand and his glasses dangerously drooping down his nose.

“Success! Sign me up for the circus.” He preened as he settled in the seat opposite Robert. The middle-aged dad humor was new for Dan. Not that Robert minded, also being a middle-aged dad, but he was pleased to see his friend doing better. The city hadn’t been kind to him, so he had escaped to a small town a couple hours south of here with his wife and kids. Gone was the nervous, passive man Robert remembered; in his place was an easy-going family man comfortable in his own skin. His own goofy, nerdy skin. 

Robert and Dan clinked glasses. “To the weekend, and maybe getting some rest,” he said.

Dan laughed. “Toby’s still a toddler, isn’t he? Good luck with that.”

“Heh. Potty training and naps are still a struggle, but he’s mostly been going to his sister instead of us if he wakes up at night.”

“How is Sarah these days?” Dan said innocently, unaware how loaded a question he asked. 

Robert took a long sip of his beer to mask his hesitation to answer. In his mind, what he said was, _‘Well, Sarah went through some kind of psycho-magical rite of passage this past spring that made her mature beyond her years but also involved Something she and Karen are treating like sexual assault. No one has told me details because they think I’m allergic to the existence of the supernatural, but actually, I’m a damn coward who won’t confront a reality I can’t understand or control. In the meantime, I have to support my scarily competent but clearly traumatized daughter about to start sophomore year and thank everything holy this didn’t happen when Linda was in the picture.'_

What he actually said was, “She’s fine. A teenager.”

Dan raised an eyebrow but let it go. “How’s the firm treating you? If you don’t mind my saying, you’re looking pretty beat.”

“My supervisor is over a decade younger than me, and they’re slowly working me into an early grave. But hey, a job is a job.” Robert tried to keep the bitter edge out of his voice as he spoke. He really did.

His friend looked back at him with a sympathetic expression that swiftly turned contemplative. “What if there was… a better job?”

Robert scowled. “What are you getting at?”

“You know how I went into business for myself after the move?”

“The surveillance tech? I thought you said that was going well?”

“It is. So well I’m getting out of my depth with the paperwork,” Dan answered with a sheepish shrug. “I was always a basement tinkerer, you remember. I can do some contracts, but I’m getting to the point I can’t keep up with everything.”

Robert drained his glass and contemplated. “So what do you need? I can come down South once a month and clean up your filing cabinets for a freelance fee. I’ll probably have to cut back at the firm, but it will be quite a commute. You sure there isn’t some upstart paralegal in your area who needs the experience?”

“I wasn’t exactly looking for a freelance pencil pusher.” Dan puffed up his chest slightly, preparing. “Robert, I’d like to make you partner in the business. I do the technology; you do the red tape and contract work. Fifty percent up front. Benefits. Weekends. Everything you have to scrape for at the firm, I’ll get you the luxury edition. You can even have time to start taking pro bono cases again.”

Robert leaned back with his hand on his heart. “Don’t tempt a guy.”

“I’m serious. I think you and I could really take Owl’s Eye somewhere. And as for the commute, maybe you could consider relocating. Far be it from me to extol the virtues of small-town Americana,” Robert snorted. “But Oddford is a nice community. And it’s not like you have roots in that suburb. Which is quickly getting absorbed into the city.” Dan lowered his voice, his gaze empathetic. “You’ve been in the same house since Linda left. It might be good to find your own place. And probably even better for Sarah.”

Was everyone but him allowed to read between the lines where his daughter was concerned?

Dan fumbled through his attaché case, producing a file folder and a brochure. “Think it over, talk to Karen about it. You don’t have to answer right away. Here’s a brief on how Owl’s Eye is doing. And here is a little information about Oddford. It’s a nice place, really.”

Dan backed off the subject after that, and they slipped into the comfortable routine of reminiscing. Two dinners and sober-up cups of coffee later, the two friends parted with hugs and well-wishes to their respective homes. It was quiet and dark when Robert pulled into his driveway and turned off the ignition. When he pulled his bag from the passenger seat, Dan’s brochure fell into his lap. He thumbed through it curiously. It _did_ look nice. Quiet, community minded. The kind of place people flocked to when they got tired of excitement, when they wanted to tend their own garden without fanfare. Not to disappear entirely, but find a calm place to grow and connect in peace. 

Robert sat in his car for a long time, thinking. Thinking about his cramped, windowless office at the firm. About this house he bought for Linda but moved into without her. About Karen’s tiny backyard garden, about how much busier their street had gotten. He thought about Sarah, and how few friends she brought home from school, and how she flinched at every car backfiring. There was no guarantee any of this would improve if they moved, but there was potential in the in the risk.

It was a leap of faith, wasn’t it?

The door to the garage opened and Karen stood in the frame, the kitchen light casting a halo over her warm, quizzical smile. Robert gathered his things and got out to meet her with a smile of his own. He was still holding the brochure.

He had a question to ask.

\-----------------------------------------------------000000000-------------------------------------------------------------

The same week and a world away

Jareth walked down the hallway, measuring his breathing. He was never this nervous entering his uncle’s office before, but then again, the summons didn’t say ‘Uncle Destryn’. It said ‘HRH Destryn Di Marli, High Fyn of the Fae Realms’. Usually, he only saw that stationary when someone was getting crowned, or - _gulp_ \- sentenced. It would also be the first time Jareth had seen him in since The Incident. Maybe that was why his shaky hand was hesitating on the door handle. Either way, it was time to screw his courage to the sticking place. Jareth took a deep steadying breath and walked in.

“Jareth, welcome. Sit down, my lad.” Uncle Destryn was exactly as disarmingly affable as he remembered. His voice was warm and his smile genuine, reaching the small crow’s feet at the corners of his blue-green eyes. 

He didn’t look like a king sitting at his desk. He looked like a kindly principal or relatable pastor, with his (Fae)business casual dress and tousled dark hair flecked with gray. But this was still the study of the High Fyn, and the weight of an entire dynasty settled heavily all around them, no matter how many of his kids’ crafts his uncle put on the bookshelves.

“Looking well, Uncle. It’s been too long,” Jareth said as he sat, going for a sincere tone over his usual casual bravado.

Destryn stilled him with a look. “Yes, it has. How did the monks treat you?”

Right after Jareth came clean about The Incident, Destryn secreted him away to a monastery for a six-month stint of rehab, leaving the goblins to his neglected council and the Runners to the Labyrinth. The first three months were mostly spent getting sober. He had only been back a few weeks when he received the summons.

“Well. Very well. Spent much of my time in community service, study, meditation, and therapy. Quite a large amount of therapy, actually.”

“Good. Glad to see you cultivate productive habits.” He looked down at his papers, clearly unbothered.

Jareth’s unease grew. “But as much as I appreciate your consideration, Uncle, it’s not a sentence. I broke the law,” he said quietly. Better to rip off that bandage soon as possible.

“You mean abusing your authority in a sacred border trial?” Jareth felt skewered to his seat by Destryn’s gaze. There was disappointment there, and sadness; painful emotions to see in the eyes of a man more Jareth’s father than the sperm donor who left him his crown. “Those laws are the Labyrinth’s,” Destryn continued. “We have adopted them for other Border Tests, but it is the Labyrinth who bore your sharpest transgression, and it is the Labyrinth who decided against removing you from your position.”

Well that was… a surprise. As much that the Labyrinth had deigned to speak as her decision to be merciful. She was the First Threshold, the Gate of Gates, and such a genius locus did not often converse with Fae, even royalty. All she asked was a monarch to care for her subjects and preside over her Trials, then she kept to herself.

“When did the Labyrinth speak to you?” Asked Jareth.

“She channeled through you the night before the monastery.”

Jareth grimaced. “I loathe when she doesn’t ask permission before channeling.”

Destryn raised an eyebrow. “Much like your, oh let’s be polite, _overture_ towards an underage girl?” There was anger creeping into his voice now, and hot shame bloomed in the pit of Jareth’s stomach.

“I wasn’t sober…” he started, but now the old excuses felt empty and inadequate in his mouth. Destryn still stared at him, and his protests died.

“For that crime there is not a complete restitution I can demand of you. That belongs to the poor girl you traumatized, and it will hang over your head for the rest of your days. But if you’ve come expecting something more punitive,” He took an antiquated goblet from the bookshelf behind him and placed it on the desk. “I might have a solution.”

Jareth fought the urge to tremble. Between himself and his uncle sat an Oath Chalice. It was an ancient way to hold a man to his word, no matter what. 

“Have I been that untrustworthy, Uncle?” He asked softly.

“Know that I would happily keep you in that monastery, quietly farming and talking out your issues until you emerged with a halo on your head. I’m aware that is not convenient for you, and also is a gross display of nepotism. But desperate times have arrived. I need someone I can trust with my most valuable asset. Someone unaffected by Tel Sidhe politics and understanding of that which I need to protect most. You fit the description perfectly, provided no one holds your mistakes over your head or…” A pointed pause. “You fall off the wagon.”

“What are you asking of me?” Jareth couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.

“I ask you to be the appointed Guardian of my heir for the duration of her academic exile until she comes of age or assumes her place in succession.”

It was the official wording, and Jareth knew he should be kneeling in gratitude, but he kept staring at the chalice, feeling like he’d been slapped. “Guardianship of an heir is supposed to be an honor,” he said, his voice hollow.

Destryn leaned forward and took his nephew’s hand. “And it still is. You were my hope for her Guardian ever since she was born. But with the amount of unrest lately, I need to be assured your past stays in the past. That way, you can focus your all your energy toward training and protecting her.”

“So, you require leverage over me.”

“So that no one else can obtain it.”

Jareth looked up from the chalice to his uncle’s face. Gone was the disappointment, but in its place was a dangerously thin hope. “Is it really that bad?” He asked.

“Yes,” Destryn said, soft but frank.

After a long exhale, Jareth leaned forward to grasp one of the goblet’s handles. “What are my stipulations?” He asked with new determination.

With a relieved smile, Destryn filled the cup with wine and took the other handle. “Jareth Marline, Border Lord and Goblin King, for a period of seven years from your crime, your will shall be beholden to this oath, set forth by myself, High Fyn Destryn Di’Marli. Your immortal soul may be commended to God, your authority to the Labyrinth, but your ass belongs to me.”

Jareth failed to hide a smirk.

“In addition to Guardianship over Princess Calria Di’Marli upon her customary exile, you will act as my left hand. I will ask you to undertake certain assignments. Secret and unsavory missions that a king should not have to consider, but must be done regardless. Do you consent?”

“I consent.”

“Your leadership role in the Labyrinth’s Border Trials has been suspended. You may aid the education of a Runner, even play a part, but the overseeing of a run must be handled by one of the Labyrinth’s Council. Do you consent?”

“I consent.”

“You will abstain from any chemical vices stronger than human alcohol. So far as you can control it, your mind will remain your own. You will maintain your sobriety absolutely. Do you consent?”

“I consent.”

“And lastly, I am suspending your carnal desires for the duration of this probation. You will be functionally asexual, so to eliminate temptation from yourself and others. Do you consent?”

The therapy from the monks had to be working because Jareth did not immediately throw that wine in his uncle’s face. He stared blankly and blinked for a moment. It did make sense, really. Calria was the same age as… the one from the Incident. And even though Jareth considered his cousin a sweet summer lamb who needed naught but protection and familial love, she would doubtless have friends and confidants around. And how could Uncle know if the Incident was a one-off or the escalation of a pattern? And it was just seven years, not long at all.

Jareth swallowed his pride and thought of the Realm. “I consent.”

Destryn smiled proudly at his nephew, probably for the first time in years, and that thought alone gave him resolve. “Then with a draught from this Chalice, you have given your word and sealed your oath. Go forth, and have courage, for the burden you carry is not light.”

Without hesitation, Jareth took the cup and downed the wine in one gulp. He did not slam the chalice back down on the desk like a beer stein at a frat party, but his old wolfish smile was back as he returned it to his uncle. He could feel the magic flow through him with the alcohol, binding him to his word.

With all the flowery official wording out of the way, Destryn squeezed Jareth’s arm. “Thank you. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re taken care of. During and after.”

Jareth smiled back, glad for the lighter mood. “So, where is sweet little Calria spending school?”

Destryn pulled a file from his desk drawer, a magical seal shimmering on the cover to keep away any unwelcome eyes. “You will be staying in the Human Realm. A little border town. American Mid-Atlantic.”

Jareth felt the color swiftly drain from his face as he glanced over the maps. “That is very close to the subject of… the Incident. Are you sure some border town is the safest place for her exile? I’m sure either of the Aunts would be happy to host us for her time.”

“They would. I know that, you know that, but unfortunately so does everyone else, including the insurrectionists. Were I to send you both to Olympus or Tuatha, you would be attacked en route. But a quiet border community on the human side isn’t likely to attract attention. And if it’s not immediately apparent you are Calria’s Guardian, even better.”

Jareth looked closer at the brief. There wasn’t a strong Fae population. The town mostly consisted of Travelers. Either younger Travelers maturing before moving on to larger adventures or older ones looking for a quiet place to settle down. The kind of place for people tired of excitement, who wanted to avoid grand drama and politics. Not a place for disappearing entirely, but of calm, growth, and peace. Uncle didn’t want his daughter to sit at the feet of schemers in some unfamiliar court for four years. He wanted her to be a teenager for once, and Jareth couldn’t fault him for it. 

He looked back with determination in his eyes and a cavalier smile. “When do we leave for this… Oddford?”

“When she turns sixteen next August,” said Destryn. “In the meantime. I have a few assignments for you…”


	2. Odd Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night kickboxing session and reminder of how far she's come.

At three in the morning on a Tuesday, Sarah Williams attacked a punching bag in her garage and tried to clear her mind.

It was the same choreography every time. A routine she developed with her gym instructor and approved by her psychologist. One she knew by heart. Ten reps of punches followed by ten reps of kicks. Then the pushups, crunches, jump rope, and pull ups. Lather, rinse, repeat until she was exhausted, or her brain stopped trying to eat itself. Tonight, the former was winning the race for her fatigue by a hair.

She sat on the ancient folding chair in the garage and took a swig of her water bottle. She liked the burn in her muscles on nights like this. It was clarifying. It made her feel strong, powerful. Like a Champion of the Labyrinth.

And Champion sounded much better than survivor, and a Hell of a lot better than victim, but that never stopped the feeling of helplessness that clung to her like the stink of stagnant water. 

Three months shy of a year since Sarah had fought her way through the Labyrinth, and she still couldn’t shake the creeping dread that kept her up on the bad nights. Dr Amalthea said that she shouldn’t feel guilty for having a normal trauma response, and also said to celebrate the progress she had made so far. Sarah’s insomnia had lessened from every night down to approximately bi-weekly, and her workout helped her process her anxiety far better than when she was watching reruns and avoiding sleep altogether. 

But Sarah still didn’t like it, no matter how infrequent it became. Trauma was one of those things that highlights exactly how little control a person has over their life, and there were days even the undeniable fact of her victory never quite made up for… everything else. With a sigh, she wiped down the punching bag and equipment before pushing it to the back of the garage beside all the cardboard boxes, full of their stuff and waiting for the van.

Oh yeah, they were moving next week. Yet another thing she didn’t have control over. Dad and Momma Karen had asked her honest opinion, and didn’t pick a new house without her approval, but once Sarah agreed, those gears were in motion no matter how much her mental timeline differed. That was probably the reason she was up tonight. (Big events often can be triggers, so sayeth Dr. Thea.) And the forecast for several more nights this week is looking similar. 

She coiled the jump rope before dropping it in her bin of gym equipment and quietly stealing up to her room. Just because her parents understood her insomnia, it didn’t mean they wanted to wake up before dawn. After a quick shower and jammies, Sarah maneuvered around her half-boxed room in the dark. Her reflection caught her eye in the dresser mirror, reminding her to tell her Labyrinth friends about the move. It wasn’t that she was avoiding that conversation; everyone’s been busy lately. And she trusted Hoggle and the gang with her life, but that didn’t mean giving away information with that portal open stopped feeling like breaking out a Ouija board in a cemetery.

But she wasn’t unprepared. So many who loved and cared for her had seen her fear and fueled her power. They had taken a scarred and scared Champion and taught her to fight.

From her gym instructors, she learned to fight with her body. Punches, kicks, grapples. Using her shoulder to put a man twice her size on his back. Free running and free weights. Dodging, dancing away from blows. Watching an opponent’s chest for their next move. How to deflect a knife; how to disarm a gun. 

From Dr. Amalthea, she learned to fight with her mind. Recognizing a panic attack and breathing through it. Naming her emotions, pinpointing her anxiety triggers. Setting firm boundaries and knowing the shape of manipulation when it was spoken. Calming her mind and focusing her feelings. Meditation. Mindfulness. Resolve.

From Karen, her most surprising and cunning of teachers, she learned to fight with the social contract itself. How to smile with all her teeth and scare someone without words. How to reduce a person to tears without one insult. How to use tears of her own to make people uncomfortable and panicky. How to recognize the same in others, and when they use it to protect their own privilege instead of defending those without it. How to listen to the silent language of what others think behind the words they choose to say.

From her mother, Sarah learned how to fight with her appearance, though that was through memory and magazine photos. The concealment of a pair of sunglasses. The violence of a red lipstick. Thin heels and tight chignons and wasp-waisted coats. Linda was a piss poor teacher, and her lessons applied sparingly to Sarah’s everyday life, but she took the knowledge all the same.

She even had lessons from her father, in how to fight with litigation. Contracts and law. How to find loopholes and how to close them. Quid pro quo. De jure versus De facto and a thousand other Latin phrases to use when someone in power wants to screw everyone else over. Getting everything in writing. How to file a subpoena and a C&D and a FOIA request. Arguing a case, not just with clever rhetoric and facts, but using both to paint her perspective. Understanding defeat isn’t always the end. Appeals. Settling out of court. Negotiation.

It was with this litany of lessons running through her head that Sarah curled up in bed, finally drowsy. She could sleep in tomorrow, since it was winter break, but then she would call Hoggle and tell him about the move. She was as prepared as she was ever going to be. And if she was being honest with herself, beneath the anxiety she was excited for what was coming next.


	3. Odd Companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah is worried about fitting in at Oddford High. She shouldn't be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Slight CW: There is a depiction of an anxiety spiral towards the end with a very brief mention of self-harm. It'll be the paragraph in italics.)

Sarah stood on the street corner, looking with trepidation at the unassuming entrance to Oddford High. Going to a new school halfway through sophomore year was not an ideal situation for the most adjusted of teenagers. But this was Sarah Williams, who was an awkward nerd before her brush with the Fae realms and an anxious awkward nerd afterwards. She did _have_ friends, thank you very much. Those friends just happened to live in a separate reality through her bedroom mirror. 

And it wasn’t like the tiny town of Oddford wasn’t its own liminal space next door to the supernatural. She could feel it sticking to the dust in the air, smell the lingering effects of magic alongside the cedars lining the highway. Every third kid entering the school had _the Look_. An aura, Fae-touched, magic-baggage, whatever you want to call it. They had traveled other worlds and gone on adventures just like her. None of that made it any easier to make friends out of the blue. It still requires small talk, and Sarah had the harrowing feeling she would be just as much an open book to them as they were to her. She had about made up her mind to slink in unnoticed when another girl stopped beside her.

“Oh brilliant. I’m not the only one intimidated by this place.” She had a British accent, urban but not posh. She had short dark hair, sparkly green nail polish, and _the Look_. Sarah sighed inwardly.

“I’ve always wanted to go to a public school like this.” The girl continued. “But now that I’m here, I’ve realized I don’t actually know what I’m doing.”

A lightbulb went off. “You’re Helena, right?” Asked Sarah. “My dad works with one of your host parents.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you must be Sarah! Dan told me it would be your first day too. Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, giggling at the awkward formality of it all. Sarah was calmed by the familiar connection. She remembered Uncle Dan and Aunt Laurie having mentioned hosting an exchange student when they helped the family move in. Helena seemed fun and non-judgmental, and with the fact she was another Traveler new to Oddford who didn’t immediately assault her with prying questions, things were looking promising. The pair walked into the school building together, delighted to learn their first period classes were right beside each other. Sarah filled Helena in on American High School etiquette while Helena helped her with conversation openers. They resolved to meet up for their shared second period and both left in high spirits.

As optimistic as meeting Helena had made her, Sarah still sat in the back of history class, preferring to observe everyone around her before jumping into a group. She found a spot by the corner, where a blonde boy with round glasses sat with his nose in a book. She couldn’t help but comment on his reading choice.

“ _Castle of Oranto_ , huh? That’s a deep cut.”

The boy laughed nervously. He had _the Look_ too, but it was old, like it hadn’t bothered him since he was a little kid.

“I normally prefer Stevenson or Wells,” he offered shyly. “But I’m trying to work my way through some Gothic Romance for fall.”

“Then if she’s not on your list already, I’ve got some Du Maurier to recommend. I’m Sarah, by the way,” she added quickly.

The boy smiled. “Richard. Richard Tyler.” His attention was drawn to the doorway behind her. “And the dork just walking in is Leo Thorn.” She turned to see another boy walk in, hiding a little behind his shoulder-length dark hair but looking at them with curious hazel eyes. “You’re actually in his normal seat, but he can get over it,” Richard leaned over and raised his voice. “Because I finally have some decent literary conversation.”

Leo Thorn rolled his eyes as he sat down on the other side of Sarah. “It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate the intricacies of the latest _Astronomy Today_.”

“Nerd.”

“Dweeb.”

“Ladies, you’re both pretty,” Sarah interjected.

The trio laughed as Leo sat down, and they survived history without issue. Several pieces of paper folded into tiny footballs passed between the three, and Sarah slowly got more of an idea about Oddford High. Leo even invited her and Helena to hang out with their friends after fourth period. He, unlike Richard, didn’t have _the Look_ , but did have the feeling of vibing with Oddford’s magic, rather than existing in opposition to it. She wondered if it was because he’d been born here. Or somewhere like here. He also had a British accent and said he lived with his grandparents but was cagey about exactly where ‘home’ was. Then he mentioned he was the youngest of seven, and that distracted Sarah enough to change the subject.

Much to her surprise, Sarah had three new friends by lunch period. This was already faring better than the decade she’d spent in her old school district. Richard and Leo had a different lunch time, so she scanned the cafeteria for a familiar face, spotting Helena leave the lunch line with all the greatest hits; square pizza, steamed carrots, a pack of Swiss Rolls, and a juice box. Sarah waved her over, her own bag of homemade salad and an organic apple in the other hand. Together they stared at the grid of long tables stretched out over the hall.

“You think there’s some kind of seating chart?” Asked Helena quietly.

“Nah, that’s only in the movies.” Sarah answered. “I hope.”

Searching for somewhere to land, a couple girls caught their gaze, both with _the Look_. The girl with the royal blue bob enthusiastically waved them over while the one with the Siouxsie Sioux hair just smiled slightly. Sarah and Helena sat down across from them and introduced themselves.

“We though you might be the new kids,” said the blue-haired girl. “Don’t worry, no one’s gossiping about you already. Richie’s just a fast texter. I’m Coraline Jones, by the way. And this is Lydia.”

Lydia’s hand left her chin to give a little wave, and as they made eye contact, Sarah was stunned by how similar her _Look_ was to Sarah’s own. She hoped to hear that story at some point but wasn’t about to ask on a first meeting. Coraline’s _Look_ mirrored Helena’s, and they hit it off instantly.

“Holy cow, what is it like growing up in the circus? Did you have pet elephants?”

“What? No. That’s just American circuses. And your parents write about gardens? Food gardens or flower gardens?”

Sarah and Lydia smirked at each other. “You just moved in on Maple, right?” Lydia asked. “I live in the atrocity at the top of the hill. You should stop by some time.”

“Is that the house with the...” Sarah trailed off, trying to use hand motions to describe the weird architecture she’d seen a few days ago. Lydia nodded. “It’s very… postmodern.”

“It’s very yuppie. But that seems to be dear stepmommy’s aesthetic.”

“Huh. I’m not sure my stepmom has an aesthetic. Except for that collection of little carousel horses in the china cabinet. I’m never letting Momma K live that one down.” _But if any house goblin touches them, that’s a slam dunk into the compost bucket_.

Lydia laughed. “How delightfully tolerable.” 

The bell rang to announce the end of lunch, cutting their friendly conversations short. The girls had already finished their food and added each other on social media. Lydia got up first, leaning over to the others. “Nice meeting you, Helena Campbell and Sarah Williams. We should hang out more. I’m dying to hear your stories.” Then with a wink, she and Coraline were off.

Sarah’s smile twitched a little before she put her forehead down on the table with a groan. Helena looked over with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“They know,” she answered, not raising her head. “They’re really nice, but they _know_ , and they want to know more.”

“Are you surprised they asked?”

Sarah turned her head, one eye peaking out from the cascade of her hair. “You didn’t say anything, and I know you can see _the Look_.”

“I’m English, Sarah. We’re allergic to awkwardness. I just assumed you would spill eventually,” Helena deadpanned before standing and pulling on her arm. “Come on. Can’t do anything about it now. In the meantime, let’s not be late, shall we?”

Sarah allowed herself to be dragged out of her seat before rolling her shoulders back and heading to the next class. Helena was right. The group already knew something was up with her, so she might as well explain. And for once, her new friends didn’t feel like people who would judge her for it. And that was a rare treat outside her therapist and Momma Karen.

The rest of the school day passed without anything further to report. (Other than the fact that her biology teacher was clearly slumming it in a public high school. But hey, what Dr. Grant did with his sabbatical was his business.) As school dismissed that afternoon, Sarah found herself with some free time before Toby was done with daycare and Karen picked them up. So, she excitedly pulled Helena to the decorative fountain in front of the main building to meet up with Leo and Richard. They sat waiting on the benches with a couple more friends leaning on the fountain’s edge. There was a girl with long, straw-blonde hair wearing all black athleisure and sunglasses. Beside her was a boy with beachy curls, a scruffy goatee, and a flannel tied around his waist. They looked almost intimidatingly cool, but by the time introductions were done, it was obvious they were just as dorky as the rest of the group. Waverly Roberts, who goes by Wes and will threaten violence to anyone who forgets, was on volleyball team, took kickboxing at the local gym, and her dad was also a lawyer. The guy was W.J. Turner The third. He preferred to simply go by Turner, he spent every warm weekend on a jet ski, and his 6-year-old brother Henry was a pain in his ass. Both Wes and Turner had similar ‘magic compatible’ auras to Leo.

But beyond the personal ephemera, they were kind, engaging, and welcoming. The group accepted the new members without question, like they had always been cutting up together. It struck Sarah how nice it felt to fit in for once, especially while she was essentially being herself. They didn’t shy from her nerdy interests or her direct attitude. They even respected her boundaries when Leo started passing out snacks and she declined.

Parents started arriving to pick them up shortly after their flurry of exchanging numbers and adding each other on socials. Turner’s mom spun around in a sporty land yacht right behind Leo’s grandad in his respectable Volvo. Richard took his bike home as Helena started walking towards Uncle Dan and Aunt Laurie’s place, leaving Wes and Sarah waiting for their respective rides.

“You liking Oddford so far, Williams?” Asked Wes.

“I think so. Just hope it likes me back.”

A black sedan pulled up and Wes moved to get inside. “Oh, it definitely does. You got the Oddford vibe already. See you round!” She said before leaving. Sarah waved as the car passed by.

As Karen pulled up moments later, Sarah found herself actually excited to tell her about the day. It was a complete 180 from her last school, where the student body either called her ‘freak’ or remained quietly indifferent to her. She felt like she had a place here. Maybe she’d even found her people.

Momma K gave Sarah a warm smile as she sat down and cooed over Toby in his car seat. “You’re in a good mood,” she noticed.

“First day of a new school has been survived. And the socializing aspect did not turn out terrible.” Sarah leaned forward into the front seat. “And I found out who lives in the Cuckoo-for-Coco-Puffs house on the hill, if you’re interested in dirt.”

“Sweetheart, I am always interested in petty interior design dirt.”

That night, after homework, dinner, and a few reps of dance cardio for the nervous energy, Sarah told her Labyrinth friends about her new human friends. Some names got a few raised eyebrows from Hoggle and Didymus.

“My lady, if I’m not mistaken, this young Turner fellow sounds like a son of Piratican royalty.”

“That actually does not surprise me,” said Sarah, attempting to balance a carton of Cherry Garcia on her knee. “He did mention his mom basically runs the marina. What is surprising is the Other Realm having a whole nation for pirates.”

“Let not the name frighten you. The Piraticans are true allies to the crown and most vital to the Commonwealth.”

“After they kicked out the capitalists, they all went soft and joined the High Fyn,” Hoggle interjected. “They were just too stubborn to change the name.”

Didymus sighed at his friend’s more un-gallant explanation, but Sarah laughed. “Yeah, that checks. We’ve talked about Wes, Leo, and now Turner; any other surprise royalty?”

“The rest of your companions seem to be hearty young Travelers like yourself, my lady.”

Sarah’s heart warmed at being in good company, but she was a little unnerved too. “Am I that mundane?” She asked.

Hoggle shook his head vigorously. “Ya ain’t common. You’re blessed, Missy. And don’t you forget it. You beat more odds than they did too, I bet.”

Sarah doubted that, though she did appreciate the sentiment. And there was a slight edge in Hoggle’s voice she’d much rather examine later. For the moment, she wished them goodnight and went to bed, making her customary check of her bedside table to make sure her iron nail was in arm’s reach.

The next weekend Sarah, Helena, Lydia, and Coraline went hiking after school in the woods overlooking the marina. And sitting in a clearing surrounded by pine trees and a cloudless blue sky, they told their stories. Helena and Coraline were working through some _astounding_ mommy issues, and they had to take a break after Lydia’s backstory. Sarah caught her eye and nodded in silent understanding. Getting a hair’s breadth away from forced marriage and statutory to a walking poltergeist might not have been the same as Sarah’s ordeal, but it certainly shared a ballpark. During the break, Cora announced she brought a picnic, and Helena passed out a six pack of lemonade. Sarah refused any offers, having brought her own snacks and a Camelbak of water. The girls had noticed Sarah was weird about food after a few days of knowing her, but all politely ignored it at school. Today however, Lydia’s eyes narrowed across the picnic blanket, and she encouraged her to speak with a nod.

So, for the first time in a long time, Sarah told someone about the Labyrinth. The initial awkwardness of the telling had worn off, between hearing the other girls’ tales and having discussed it with her therapist. They laughed at all the funny parts and gasped at all the frightening parts (usually following the words ‘piece of cake’). They had some wry comments about Jareth in the beginning, but by the peach, they were ready to rip him limb from limb. Lydia even spat on the ground. If anything helped her feel less crazy, that was in the top three. Things got difficult to tell, as they usually did, in the junkyard. The familiar lurch in her stomach that sent her brain into a gnawing spiral. The memory of those hazy moments had would forever make her question her own reality.

_Do you think you’re in a real place now? How do you know you’re not still there? Or still in the dream? Let’s go over the list. Let’s throw something to smash the bubble. Do you have your nail? Get your nail. Test it on your palm to make sure it’s real…_

Sarah hadn’t noticed how quiet she’d gotten or how her hands started shaking until she looked up at the looks of concern on her friend’s faces. Helena immediately grabbed her trembling hand and held it tight. It was a little clammy and cool from her drink, but it was _there_. _Real_. She could feel her pulse thumping in her wrist. It grounded her enough to take a deep breath and keep going. By the end she expected them to laugh at her fourth-grade-play version of triumph, considering what they had all faced. She did not expect Coraline to whisper ‘you are a badass’ under her breath, or Helena to actually applaud. She certainly didn’t expect Lydia to reach over and wrap Sarah in a bear hug, and from the expression on Cora’s face, that was a rare action. It soon morphed into a group hug, followed by an eruption of laughter from all of them.

Coming down from the trail, the girls met up with the Wes/Turner/Leo/Richie cluster, and they all introduced the newbies to the best coffee shop in Oddford. The Clockwork Bean was a wonderful place to hang out, complete with comfy couches, board games, and occasional live music. Even if Sarah chose not to order, she was having a good time. Cora and Richie managed to get her a copy of the menu and a supplier list to take home for when she decided she was ready to trust their drinks. In the meantime, they all commandeered a sectional and playfully argued over pop culture and Settlers of Catan. She looked around at all her new friends, laughing and celebrating each other’s weird energy, noting how easy and fun she found their company.

Yeah, she found her people.


End file.
